


together

by ellfie



Series: together (always) [1]
Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, M/M, arguable underage but still, bruce doesn't show up in this story it's just the boys talking/thinking about him, dick is kind of a mess, it's all a little gray here, jason knows exactly what he wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellfie/pseuds/ellfie
Summary: “So how long have you and Bruce been…"“Together?”--Jason's mere presence keeps bringing up the past for Dick, which makes it worse when Jason decides to prove he's the better Robin ineveryway.





	together

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during 1x06 (Jason Todd). I am positive they wrote that line the way they did to make you sit and go "wait what" while us shippers went YUP. Anyway, I added the underage tag as a precaution though there's technically not anything underage here, if we're to believe Jason's claim that he's 19. What happened between Bruce and Dick when in the past can be left up to interpretation. Anyway yes hello my name is ellfie and i am trash enjoy my garbage pile.

.x.

_A hand is on his on his shoulder, gently turning him from the scene. His parents — his **parents** — oh god —_

_“I want to help you.”_

_The voice is deep and soft but Dick can’t see the man’s face. It’s too dark, there’s too many flashing lights from the tent and the police and the flashlights and the cameras, and the tears are too thick to see anything but a blur of a man, staring down at him, hand heavy and warm on his shoulder._

_Dick doesn’t want help. He wants to_ **_wake up._ **

.x.

“So,” Dick starts, eyes flicking from the mirror where he’s trying to see just how badly his face looks, to the boy in the passenger’s seat, then back to the road. He sniffs, making a face. Shit’s gonna bruise and he’ll be blowing blood for a few hours. It’s a good distraction, at least.  
  
He clears his throat to start again, catching Jason’s raised eyebrow. “How long have you and Bruce been…”

And ringing in his memories of the huge, empty manor —

_“You’re not my dad!”_

_“Good. I’m not trying to be, Dick.”_

And in the cave beneath—

_“We’re partners, right?”_

_“…Yes, Robin. Partners.”_

And in a too-dark room that smelled like musky spice and had a too-big bed in the center, and a hand hot and low on his back—

_“I’m here, Dick, I’m here.”_

_“Bruce — please —“_

“Together?”

Dick jolts out of his memories and stares at Jason, his stomach falling out, his heart jumping into his throat, his… Jesus. Jason looks so _bored_ saying it like that. Meanwhile Dick feels like someone just cut open his skull, dumped a cocktail of emotions more sickening than any alcohol or drugs, then slammed him shut and shook him up.

Jason shrugs, does this thing with his lips and jaw that’s something like a pout but more bored than that, and he looks back out the window. “About a year now.”

A year.

A motherfucking _year_.

Dick’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, and he hears something come out of his mouth but all he can hear is _a year_ and _together_ and _Robin 2.0, bro!_ and Bruce’s voice in his ear whispering those rare few praises, how important he was to him, and how it all meant _nothing_ because as soon as Dick left Bruce replaced him.

All those years. All the pain and growth and — and _love_ , and maybe something dirtier than that — all of it meant _nothing_. 

_He_ meant nothing to Bruce.

Every second with Jason is salt rubbed into that wound, one he’d been trying to ignore for so long. But the kid keeps grinning and babbling about _Bruce this_ and _Bruce that_ and _must’ve changed the locks_ because of course Bruce deleted him from the system when adding _Jason._

Dick grits his teeth, can’t bear to look at the kid for too long lest he start compiling all the similarities between them, how Bruce so clearly has a _type_ and it’s lost boys with dark hair and piercing eyes who are vulnerable enough to let him sink his claws into while everyone else goes on thinking Brucie Fucking Wayne is a wonderful, charitable person.

Jason’s chatting about the suit again, opening his case to pull it out and point out the new cut, and Dick remembers _Why do you think he makes us wear those lame colors?_ like it meant nothing. But of course it didn’t, not to Jason, and clearly not to Bruce if he was just going to throw _his Robin_ at anyone who had pretty eyes and a smart mouth.

Like it didn’t matter how he remembered sitting at a too big desk, excited for the first time since his parent’s death, meticulously designing and coloring a suit. He used up dozens of papers with his sketches and ideas, and Bruce would come in and check on him and put his hand on his shoulder and smile at him, point out a suggestion or adjustment, but for maybe the one time Dick could remember hadn’t forced anything during Dick’s creative process, just stroked his hair and left him to it. Even when it came to the colors.

“Red and green and yellow, Dick?” Bruce had said, sitting in an armchair in an office, looking over his latest designs. Dick nodded and climbed onto the arm, and Bruce’s arm had quite idly slid around, fingers ghosting across his back, until he settled with his arm about his waist, hand splayed out on Dick’s flank, and Dick felt secure. Safe. Bruce wouldn’t let him fall, not matter how precariously he was perched. 

“Yeah, they’re my colors. My family’s colors. I know it’s flashy but—“  
  
“It’s perfect.”

Word’s died on his lips that remained parted as he blinked down at Bruce, who studied the pictures for another moment like he had no idea the effect he had on him, then looked at him with a smile. Dick’s heart had pounded, face heated up, and yet he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

Despite everything, Dick still cherishes those memories. Sure, he has a lot more of the traumatic ones, but… those small, warm ones are the ones that made it worth it, made his life not such a huge pile of garbage.

And yet here Jason is, shitting over it all.

“Pretty cool, right?” The kid is grinning, leaning back against the table and letting his suit flop back into the case. “Nice upgrades, way better than the last model.” And that god damned _grin._ He knows _exactly_ what he’s saying. Jason must see something in Dick’s face, or maybe Dick is just finally gritting his teeth so hard the world can hear it cracking, because the kid is grinning wider and tipping his chin up. He licks his lips, already reddened and _sinful_ looking, and the way he holds his chin up enables him to watch him from beneath thick eyelashes. “Just all around better Robin, I guess.”

Dick _snarls_ and suddenly he’s in Jason’s face, his hands buzzing with the force of slamming them on the table. “You think you’re better than me?”

Jason’s eyes and grin are wild. “At _everything_. Even the old man thinks so—“

He barely finishes because Dick’s had enough. He grabs the front of the kid’s hoodie and slams him into the wall. Jason expects it, if his grin is anything to go by and the fact he kept his head from hitting the wall. That or maybe the kid is just too used to being pushed around by people bigger than him.

“You wanna see just _how_ good?” Jason purrs, eyes dark and dangerous and so much like Bruce it’s scary, and Dick would like to think that this is Jason egging him on into a fight, but Jason licks his ridiculous lips and Dick can’t help but notice them, and Jason’s hands are on his chest, curled into his shirt, not fisted and violent like Dick’s still are, still keeping him shoved against the wall.

_Shit_.

Dick lets out a breath when he remembers to breathe, and tries to move back but Jason’s fingers tighten and suddenly _he’s_ the one slammed back against the wall, staring wide-eyed as he tries to figure out this change of position, process the fact that Jason is sinking to his knees while his hands drag down his chest, stomach, and thighs.

“I’d always wondered, ya know?” Jason’s still talking, his voice lilting and teasing just like his fingers as they dig into the meat of Dick’s thighs, but the kid’s eyes are right at his crotch and — and Dick can’t help it. The attention is getting to him. “I think everyone did. Batman and Robin. The dynamic duo.”

Dick closes his eyes, knocks his head back against the wall, remembering the weight of Bruce’s cock on his tongue, how he taught him to stay loose, take it deeper — _“Just like that, Dick — just like—hnn— good boy, good job.”_

“So when I saw him _looking_ —“ Jason laughed, hand playing up Dick’s hips, slipping under his shirt, thumbs smoothing over his waistline and playing with the button of his pants. “Old man thought he was bein’ sly. But you grow up on the streets, you _know_ that look. And I thought _oh fuck, Batman and Robin!_ ” He flicks Dick’s button, tugs the zipper down, and Dick mentally curses when he realizes he’s _looking_ now, watching Jason’s reaction as the kid gets this fucking delighted but smug look when he finds Dick wearing nothing beneath his pants. And _fuck_ , Jason licks his lips, and this is such a bad idea, this wasn’t what he wanted, he shouldn’t do this, he’s so much older than him, he’s not _Bruce_ —

“And _then_ I thought,” Jason continues, eyes flashing up at Dick, wild and dark and hungry, and a breath escapes Dick as the kid flicks his half hard cock out of his open pants. “And now _I’m_ Robin.”

Dick opens his mouth to — to do _something,_ to stop him, maybe punch him for good measure, and he flexes his fingers, about to grab his shoulders and push this mouthy little kid away when Jason catches his eye, flashes him a smirk and swallows him down.  
  
“ _Fuck.”_

The little shit is _still_ smirking even with a mouthful of cock and he slips back, suckling at just histip, hands still digging into his thighs as Dick’s arousal quickly fills within the warm, slick feel of his mouth, the press of his tongue, the little suckles that make it hard to breathe, and the way he tongues at his slit, explores the little bundle of nerves beneath the head that makes Dick shudder. 

“Jason—“ His hands are hovering between them, and it’s hard to think through the carnal thrum, the swell of old memories and emotions — he swears he can smell Bruce on the kid’s clothes — and the sheer audacity of this kid, of _Bruce_ to _take_ this kid, to _replace_ him so fucking _quickly_ —

Dick growls and grabs Jason’s shoulders, squeezing, and the kid groans and flashes him another look. Dick wants to protect him. From Bruce, from this life. But he also wants to _wreck_ him. “Jason, you don’t—“ Jason hums and Dick shudders at the feel of it, tightens his grip, tries to push him back and away and Jason redoubles his efforts, shifts forwards and — and Dick might not be Bruce but he’s certainly got and impressive length — and yet Jason just swallows him down to the root, tip brushing the back of his throat and swallowing around it and Jesus _Christ_ it might be one of the best damn things he’s ever felt. Before he realizes it his hands are threading through Jason’s wild hair, and he can just get handfuls of it so he does, growling as he grips and tugs at his locks while Jason groans and shudders.

Fuck it. _Fuck it_. He’s going to hell anyway, thanks to Bruce. Why not add to the list.

He fucks his mouth, Jason groaning and choking but never gagging, never truly struggling to breathe — damn he’s good at this — so Dick just keeps going. Grips his hair and shoulder, thrusts into his mouth, while Jason moans, sometimes shutting his eyes and sometimes staring at him from beneath his lashes, and one hand stays braced on his hip while the other starts to slide down but — Dick snatches his wandering hand, holds it tight, and Jason whines and Dick can just _hear_ the way he’d whine, _C’mon, man!_

“You think you’re so special?” Dick growls, tightening his grip on his head so Jason can’t move as he fucks his mouth, he’s pretty red lips spread wide. “You think he gives a _shit_ about you? All he wants is a _pet_. Another gadget. Something to aim and throw at his enemies. Something to trail behind him and boost his ego. Something to fuck when he gets bored of supermodels. All you are is another weapon, a tight hole, and a way to stroke his ego.” His breaths come uneven now, and he’s curled over Jason, hand at the back of his head and he buries his cock inside his mouth. “We don’t _matter_ to him, Jay—Jason. All that — all that matters to Bruce is — is _Bruce_ —“

He shudders as he comes, and Jason doesn’t hesitate to swallow, breathing hard through his nose, and Dick shuts his eyes tight, tries to breathe again, not think about what he just did, how his cock is softening inside this kid’s mouth.

Jason finally leans back, letting Dick’s cock slip from his mouth and stares at him, eyes still dark and hazy, hungry, and Dick can’t help but look down to see his pants straining. “You’re wrong, you know,” he breathes, and Dick’s gaze climbs back up his body, lingers on those red lips that Jason licks for good measure. “About Bruce.” Dick scowls but gets distracted again when Jason’s hand slips down between his own legs and deftly undoes his pants, slipping his hand in and Dick finds himself _desperate_ to see him. “He still wants you—“

Dick shoves him onto the ground, finds Jason wide-eyed beneath him but the kid is just jacking himself off faster now, and Dick wonders if he’s fulfilling some sort of fantasy, if it wasn’t all just _tips and pointers_ the new Robin had wanted from him.

“You know how it started?” He murmured, hovering close, blinding dragging his hand down to meet Jason’s own. “You’re right. He _looks_ at you. When he touches your shoulder, he starts to linger. You say something funny, he might even ruffle your hair, and then his hand slides down and he cups your face and he just _looks_ at you, like he can see everything inside you; every thought, every dream, every nightmare—“ Jason is still staring at him, eyes wide, and he’s nodding just a bit, but that could just be from the way Dick is jacking him off. “And then he’s gone, working on some other case, and you think it’s all in your head. But every time you’re near him, he finds a reason to touch you, _you_ find a reason to get close. His hand on your shoulder, the way it draws over your back like your skin is on fire, and he lets you press against his side. You know his favorite place?”

Dick pauses, and he knows Jason is hanging on his every word because when Dick doesn’t continue, he frantically shakes his head even as he just as frantically bucks into his hand. Dick shifts so he can slide his hand over Jason’s shoulder, settle at the base of his neck. It’s a little awkward in this position, but Jason shudders, eyes fluttering for a second. “He likes keeping his hand here. Whether you’re in the cave, out on the rooftops, or at some charity event. Right here.” He gives him a little squeeze and Jason groans. “Like you’re some animal he can control by the scruff of your neck.”

But Dick had reacted the same way Jason is. Aching for it. Shuddering. Maybe he hated Bruce, but he craved contact. Bruce was awkward with it at best, especially comforting. Bruce’s version of comfort was to put you in a straight jacket and lock you inside a quickly filling vat of water so you could practice getting out before you drowned, just in case someone ever tried to do something like that to you.

Jason’s eyes flutter shut, and he’s biting his swollen lip, and Dick watches the way his teeth sink into it. “He’s tryin’— tryin’ to protect—“

Dick growled and bit down on Jason’s lower lip, feeling the rush of breath against his face, the way Jason’s hand griped his shirt, nails dug into his back. And then they were kissing, frantic and hungry and biting. This wasn’t anything like Kory — with Kory it had been fun, a little awkward, but exploratory and easy and a release of tension. Tension which just too easily crept back. Tension Jason was just making worse.

His lip was still healing from the split he got after fighting that team of hitmen, the ones Jason… Jason helped him get away from. But the pain was good, the little tang of blood between them tasted _right_. This was Robin. Pain and blood and Bruce, and chasing just a moment of pleasure.

Dick licked the taste of beer and blood and come from the kid’s wide, red mouth, and slid his finger over his tip, curled his fingers in so his blunt nails just barely pressed against his length, and Jason gasped as he came. Dick milked him through it, Jason’s hips pumping into the man’s loose fit for another several seconds as the kid groaned, clutching at Dick’s back and shoulders. He could feel his cum, a lot of it, warm and wet seeping through his shirt. Dick made a face, slowly pulled away, noting Jason’s hands as the kid let them drop dramatically to the sides. Dick settled heavily on the floor next to him, staring at the ceiling, cursing his life choices.

Jason breathed heavily beside him and for a moment that was it. Just breaths between them and the smell of sex and feel of trying cum, uncomfortably damp along his chest and sticky against his palm. This wasn’t how he thought today would go _at all_.

Finally, he heard a rustle of clothing as Jason shifted. “ _Fuck_ , bro,” he breathed, and Dick closed his eyes so he wouldn’t look at him, but he could hear him lick his lips. But he couldn’t help but turn his head and look when the kid laughed, “Thanks for fulfilling one of my fantasies.”

“What?” Dick replied automatically, dumbly.

Jason’s eyes are shining, smug and satisfied and honestly… downright _giddy_ when he turns his head to grin at him. “When I was younger, I didn’t know if I wanted to _be_ you, or _fuck_ you.” He let out another laugh, breathy and crazy sounding, grinning up at the ceiling. “Guess I got _both_.” 

Dick groaned — not in a good way — and closed his eyes, trying to reorient his world for what felt like the hundredth time this week alone, and reached up to drag a hand through his hair but stopped when he realized it was covered with cum. Dick grunted, made a face, and then sat up with a breath. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up, then we’ll talk about what’s next.”

Jason hummed and sat up on his elbows, cocking his head as Dick got to his feet. “Oh, I have _plenty_ of suggestions.”

Dick froze, turned to stare down at him. This fucking kid. In a green jacket and yellow sweater and only his shirt was a color off. His cock hanging out of his pants, already twitching beneath Dick’s gaze. “This isn’t happening again.”

“Aw, c’mon,” and how does this fucking kid manage to pout and smirk at the same time? “Don’t you want to see what _else_ I do for Bruce?” He let his legs fall farther apart and Dick’s gaze drops between them, imagining him in Bruce’s bed, beneath the man’s bulk, Bruce’s big hands on Jason’s thighs as he holds them apart so he can—

Dick spins on a heel and storms away. “Fix your pants.” And he slams the door to the bathroom to the sound of Jason’s laughter.

.x.


End file.
